Oliver helping a girl in trouble. Whether this had anything to do with Scanguards would unfold soon, he hoped.
In the meantime, he should mend what he’d screwed up.
When he put his hand on the doorknob, he felt Blake’s hand on his shoulder. “Hey, what are you doing?”
Oliver gave him a pointed look. “What’s it look like? I’m going into the living room.” He shook off his hand. “So if you wouldn’t mind . . . ”
“Not alone, you’re not.”
“Don’t you have anything better to do than spy on me?”
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t have to spy on you if you knew how to behave.”
“That’s rich, coming from you! If I remember well, you just tried to make a pass at her. And you’re telling me I can’t behave?”
Without another glance, Oliver opened the door and entered the living room. Behind him, Blake crowded into the room. Figured that his halfwit half-brother couldn’t take a hint.
Ursula stood at the window, peering out into the dark, even though he knew she couldn’t see anything out there with the light from the living room reflecting in the glass pane. She spun around when she heard his footsteps.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Oliver pointed to the window. “You should come away from there. Somebody might see you. I can’t be sure that nobody followed us.”
She quickly walked away from the window and approached the fireplace. Even though Oliver hadn’t noticed anybody following them, he had to admit that he had been too preoccupied to pay proper attention.
Ursula raised her chin and looked straight at him. “I want to call my parents.”
For a moment, he contemplated her request, but he already knew what his answer would be. He couldn’t allow her to contact anybody. Not until Cain had verified her story. “Later.”
Her eyes blazed with anger and hurt. “You’re not any better than the vampires who kept me captive.”
“That’s not fair. I haven’t done anything to you to hurt you.”
“But you’re locking me up just like they did. You don’t allow me to talk to my parents. And how long until you’re going to attack me for my blood? How long?”
Right now, he wanted to scream, but clenched his jaw. “Never! I’m not a savage. I’ll prove it to you.” What was he saying?
“How?” she challenged.
Without taking his eyes off her, he issued an order. “Blake, get me a bottle of blood from the pantry.”
“What?” his half-brother asked. “You serious?”
“You heard me.”
He heard Blake’s boots scratch against the wooden floorboards as he left the room.
Ursula gave him a doubtful look. “What are you trying to do?”
“I’ll prove to you that I’m civilized, that I don’t want your blood.” He knew he was lying, but he had to convince her otherwise. Or he would never get the other thing he wanted: her body, underneath him, panting in ecstasy.
“By drinking blood from a bottle? That’s not going to prove anything!”
She was probably right, but it would establish something else. “At least for the next twenty-four hours you’ll know that I’m sated and that you’re safe from me. If you’ve really spent the last three years with vampires, you know their habits, their urges, their needs. You know that a vampire has no urge to attack you for your blood if he’s fed sufficiently.”
There was an almost unperceivable nod. Still, the doubt in her eyes didn’t disappear. “Doesn’t mean I’m safe from you.”
He met her eyes and had to silently agree with her. No, she was not safe from him. He could maybe stave off the hunger he felt for her blood by feeding more than he normally did, but how could he suppress the desire that was growing inside his belly? Could he really watch over her without giving into the temptation to touch her, kiss her, press his body against hers? Or would the fire that she had ignited with her kiss get out of control and demand he take her and strip her naked? And once she was naked and panting beneath him, would he find the strength to resist biting her? He doubted it.
How could he even have such thoughts, knowing what she’d been through? The last thing she probably wanted was a man lusting after her, let alone touching her.
Unable to rebut her statement, he looked away. He was glad that he was saved from answering when Blake reentered the room and pressed a bottle of blood into his hand.
“Thanks.”
Oliver didn’t waste a second unscrewing the top and putting the bottle to